Interludes: Home
by Eowyn77
Summary: Lois' and Martha's perspective on a certain hero's dramatic entrance. Massive spoilers for Justice League.
1. Sunrise

Author's note: This is written in the same vein as my MoS fic "Interludes," basically a between-the-scenes story that will at times overlap with scenes from Justice League. As such, it will have some pretty big spoilers. This story also makes direct references to "Interludes" and to my post-BvS story "Good." You should be able to enjoy this story without having read those fics, but if you want to read more, now you where to look. ;)

Regarding timing, I'm assuming Clark died in DoJ sometime in the late fall or early winter based on the Friends of the Metropolis Library event happening during Dia de los Muertos. JL clearly happens in a time other than winter, though, since the final battle is in "northern Russia" according to Barry Allen, and they're not under 2 feet of snow. (Also, I'm a gardener and the height of the corn on the Kent Farm puts Clark's reunion with Lois and Martha during the early to mid-summer.) Since I've been enjoying the solar myth Zac Snyder has been weaving into Clark's story, I'm keeping things simple and running with the idea that Clark died in early December and came back to life sometime in June.

Also, the song referenced in the first scene is "Gone, Gone, Gone" by Phillip Phillips.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 _Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming through the barn's open door, swirling in time with them as Clark sweeps her off her feet to a beat. "For you, for you," he croons along with the radio, and Lois laughs. It's their song – has been since the Valentine's Day interview – and she never tires of hearing it. "You will never sleep alone, I'll love you long after you're gone..."_

 _It's a perfect moment, the thrill of their shared happiness singing through her veins, and she wants to live in it forever._

" _Like a drum my heart never stops beating for you..."_

A ringing phone dragged Lois from the dream, dragged her through the cold knowledge that memories were all she had now, dragged her into a dull, gray, broken world.

She reached for the phone, intending to shut it off. Sources didn't call her anymore, just telemarketers. Even then they were robo-dials most of the time. But the caller ID read "Bruce Wayne."

Her stomach dropped. He hadn't contacted her in months. She should have been thrilled – either Gotham City's richest man or its last defender wanted to talk to her. There was a story here. There _should_ be – she knew it in some rational part of her brain. But she couldn't feel it, couldn't see it – the words didn't flow anymore. That analytical part of her, the part that owned any story, had died when Clark did. She remembered what the thrum, the form of the engine of the world should be, but whenever she forced herself to look, the engine was too-still and she could only see the S-shaped hole in it.

 _I can't. I can't. I just can't..._

The phone fell silent in her hand, and guilt started creeping in. It had taken her a while to understand what Diana had meant. "Do what would honor Clark Kent the most," the Amazon had said. "Change the world." But Lois couldn't carry on Clark's legacy. She couldn't be that strong. She wasn't enough without him. No one was.

The phone started ringing again, and pushed by guilt more than pulled by excitement or even courage, she swiped the screen and said, "Hello?"

"Lois. I need you downstairs in fifteen minutes."

His words were further evidence that the whole world had gone off the rails. "What?"

"I don't have time to talk right now, but I need you downstairs in fifteen minutes. Alfred will be there and he'll explain everything."

He wasn't being reasonable. It was still the gray twilight before dawn and she hadn't had her coffee yet. "I can be ready in about an hour."

"Lois. The fate of the world is in the balance right now. I need you downstairs."

Why couldn't he just go away? "I appreciate the exclusive," Lois tried again, "but I'm not on the investigative beat right..."

"We're going to try to bring him back to life."

Her lips went numb with the shock of his words. " _What_?"

"Downstairs. Fifteen minutes. Alfred will explain." The line clicked dead, and something long-dormant in Lois roared to life. Tossing back the covers, she threw on her clothes, yanked a brush through her hair, grabbed her purse and press pass, and was running as fast as her heels would let her to the fancy car in front of her building within ten minutes.

"Miss Lane," Alfred cordially greeted as he held the front passenger door for her. She fumbled her seat belt and then forced herself to stop and take a deep calming breath. She could feel again, even if it was the most tremulous of hope, and it was a bit overwhelming. The reporter in her was alive and focused, and it frightened her (because what if Bruce failed?), but she did her best to push the fear aside. By the time Alfred had walked around the car, buckled his own seat belt, and pulled out into traffic, she thought she could more or less pass for a rational human being again.

"So," she began, breaking the ice, "Bruce said you would explain?"

"To the best of my ability, yes. There is a...being, another extraterrestrial, that has come here with the intent to destroy humanity. The Amazons were unable to stop him, as were the Atlanteans."

"The who?" she interrupted. "Did you say _Atlanteans_?"

"The world has changed, Miss Lane," he said, his smile somewhere between amused and bemused, though he remained focused on driving. "We walk among legends."

"I walked with a god," she pointedly said. "And speaking of him..."

"Yes. This alien, Steppenwolf, has two...talismans of the three necessary to destroy us. Master Bruce and the others hold the third, but they are not enough to defend it. That talisman also has the power to give life."

"And they're going to use it to resurrect Clark?"

"They're going to make the attempt, yes. The world needs Superman."

She was almost afraid to ask, but the moment was etched into her brain: a hulking brute with a green-tipped spear about to kill the man she loved. "And after this Steppenwolf is defeated?"

"What of it?"

"Will the world still need Superman?"

Alfred hesitated just long enough for her to know he understood and took her question seriously. "Without question. And Master Bruce feels that the team would benefit from Clark's contributions as well."

Lois let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Now that her internal lovesick fangirl was satisfied, the reporter in her reasserted herself (and it felt so _good_ for her mind to be working properly again). "So Batman woke me up early and was considerate enough to send _you_ to come pick me up just because he was feeling generous?"

Alfred glanced at her, a knowing smile flickering across his face. "If you are insinuating that this was more than a courtesy call, you are correct. We feel that there are certain...risks associated with waking Superman up. Should he prove...difficult, Master Bruce feels you will be able to reason with him when no one else could."

"I'm his fallback plan." Lois couldn't help feeling a little bit irked that she was just a cog in his machinations. If he was going to include her in the plan, he should have at least given her a _little_ more notice.

"The world needs Superman, the team needs Clark, and – we suspect – he needs you."

Lois smirked at Alfred with grudging amusement. "You're much easier to work with than Bruce."

Alfred's grin was genuine. "Yes, I am. Thank you." He sobered, his smile fading. "Master Bruce knows that neither he nor Clark would forgive him if harm came to you because of this plan. Our first hope is that Miss Prince will be able to persuade Superman to join them, considering they have fought side-by-side in the past. If that fails, Batman will try to convince Superman..."

Lois swore softly under her breath. "Is he suicidal?"

"He could not put you in danger without first making the attempt."

Lois considered that. While it might be true for Bruce Wayne, she knew enough about Batman (after reading up on him in the last six months) to recognize that that motivation was too sentimental. "He's worried Clark and I will fly off into the sunset and he'll never get Superman's help."

This time Alfred was the one with a grudging smile. "Into the sunrise, actually, but yes, that as well."

Bruce's gravelly Batman-voice came through the car speakers, interrupting them. "If that happens, Lois, the fate of the world will rest on your willingness to send him away."

The words were harsh enough to knock the wind out of her. That, and she didn't realize the Bluetooth had been turned on.

That's why they didn't have her there the moment Clark came back – she saw that now. It had less to do with protecting her and more to do with not distracting him. Bruce was willing to risk his life because he didn't trust Lois to be strong enough to not ruin his plan.

The knowledge stung all the more to realize that, if she were in Bruce's place, she wouldn't trust her either.

"Once Superman's recovered enough from waking up, of course," the butler added.

"Alfred!" Bruce's voice reverberated through the cab of the car, an edge of panic to his voice. "He's taking all four of them down. I'm going in."

"Understood," Alfred answered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Through the speakers, Bruce called out, "Clark!" Their car started accelerating.

"All four of them?" Lois echoed.

"Miss Prince, a cyborg who was named Victor Stone when he was fully human, a half-Atlantean ally named Arthur Curry, and Barry Allen, a human whose speed rivals Superman's."

Lois tried to wrap her head around it, but her thoughts were interrupted by a thud and crash that shook the speakers – so vivid that Lois flinched in her seat. The car started weaving in and out among other vehicles, drawing honks and (Lois was sure) flipped birds. "Alfred, I need the big guns," Bruce's voice filled the cab.

Again she saw in her mind the Bat, spear drawn, ready to skewer Clark alive. Speaking over Bruce, she said, "You said the world would need Superman even after..."

"I did. It's true," Alfred answered, and Lois clung to the door as they turned a corner, tires squealing.

"But he said 'the big guns.'"

"He meant you."

Yesterday, she would have said the compliment was misplaced. Today she felt ready to walk into a lion's den, into pitched battle, into hell itself if it meant fixing this horrible, months-long mistake. She wasn't going to get a name plaque with "The Big Guns" for her desk, but she'd take the title – and the strength it implied – and run with it now.

Lois heart chilled when an almost-familiar voice said over the car speakers, " _You_ did this?"

Horrified, she whispered, "Is that...?" as Bruce answered, "I had to."

"Superman," Alfred confirmed.

"You won't let me live. You won't let me die." The tone made the hair on Lois' arm stand on end.

"The world needs Superman," Bruce said, and Lois wasn't sure if he was talking to Clark or to her.

"But does it need you?" Clark said over the speakers. She'd never heard his voice so distorted by hate before.

Had Bruce done what Lex failed to – turned Clark into another Zod? "Please, drive faster," Lois pleaded.

"Almost there" Alfred curtly answered.

"Tell me," the almost-Clark voice growled, "do you bleed?"

Alfred slowed to a stop on the grass of Heroes Park, and Lois threw open the door. "Clark!"

Though she'd been mentally preparing herself for this for the last half-hour, the sight before her took her breath away. It was him, hovering in the air, holding the fully-geared Batman with one hand as if he was a rag doll. Not a dream. Not a memory. She ran toward him – slipping past a police officer, so that she was front and center – and saw in his face what she'd heard in his voice. It wasn't just hatred for Bruce that was distorting him. Something wasn't right in Clark's eyes, in his mind.

 _He died_ , a voice in the back of her mind whispered. _You wouldn't be yourself either._

How to help him, if he even could be helped? She inched away from the brutalized police car, but tears welled up in her eyes. A part of her had held back, not daring to believe the chimera – the stunning impossibility of his return – but seeing Clark now, she couldn't lose him again. Not like this, regaining him physically but losing his soul. "Clark," she called and the fierce light in his eyes softened in recognition.

He tossed Bruce aside, the gesture only deepening her sense that there was something horribly wrong in him, and she pleaded, "Please." _Please be real. Please let me just touch you._

Then he landed near her, and she found herself calmly striding close enough for him to take her into his arms. "Please." _Please be in there somewhere. Please come back to me._

The shock of his embrace left her hands trembling. She clung to the impossible reality of his warm skin, his warm voice as he murmured, "Lois."

The sound of his voice – so much more like him – breathed life into her whole being, but already cops were on-site, and they were surrounded by office buildings full of people and their cell phones.

"You need to go away," she said, knowing it was necessary even though Bruce would disapprove. Clark needed to get away from this place where he fought Doomsday, where he thought his allies – even Diana – were enemies. "Go. Just...let's go. Let's go."

Their sudden takeoff forced the air from her lungs, and too late she tried to cover her ears against the sudden change in pressure. He slowed, then, leveling off and turning to create a sheltering wake – a space where she could at least breathe. Did he remember that from their many recreational flights over the last two years? Or was he sensing her human limitations now as he cradled her face against his bare chest, reading in her skin her own fear and painfully-ringing ears? That shouldn't be what he read in her after being dead for more than half a year. Closing her eyes, she turned her thoughts inward to the awe and joy of holding him again, even if it was under these circumstances.

He was _alive._ They could work through anything as long as that was true. Full-fledged hope – strong and fierce and blissfully beautiful – swept through her soul. The whistling wind dried her tears, and Clark kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry." She felt more than heard the words rumble in his chest.

"You're alive," she said in answer, knowing _he'd_ hear her just fine. "Don't apologize."

He said nothing more, and Lois relaxed against him, reveling in the sound of his heartbeat, in the feel of his smooth, unmarred skin. He didn't even bear a scar from that horrifying hole in his chest.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been in flight before she stole a peek at their surroundings, squinting against the wind. They were well beyond even the suburbs of Metropolis now, flying over what looked to be the Appalachians, and she idly wondered where he was taking them. It didn't matter, really. He was alive and they were together. In this moment, everything was right in Lois' world.

 _You've been kidnapped by an undead alien_ , that voice in the back of her mind whispered, and she snorted softly at her own mental commentary. That snarky part of her had a point, though. While she was confident he had no intention of harming her, he clearly wasn't right in the head. Clark had been almost obnoxiously overprotective at first when she'd wanted them to range farther in free-flight. She had to keep telling him she was fine, that his body heat kept her warm, and that she could breathe without trouble – unlike now. He'd never even approached the sound barrier with her unless she was in some kind of sheltering vehicle. The ringing in her ears was mostly gone, but it was evidence that, while Clark was very much alive, he wasn't quite _back_. Would he ever be? How would she know?

That last thought was just borrowing trouble, and she pushed it to the back of her mind. One day, one minute, one breath at a time. That's how she needed to handle this. She needed to be his rock. She needed to be strong for him – and fresh tears overflowed at that. Months of despair, and each day had left her a little more broken, not less. The pain had dulled but also deepened. She wasn't the strong one.

He nuzzled her, and she turned her face to kiss the base of his throat once. She shouldn't push him to be intimate with her, but if he was running on instinct instead of rational thought, maybe the love-struck fangirl was her best way to reach him – if he remembered she had human limitations. Regardless, though, that should wait until they were on the ground again. Even before...Doomsday, he hadn't trusted himself to both keep her safe while in swift flight _and_ make love with her. Levitating had been fun, though...

…

When they touched down, Lois looked around, trying to get her bearings in a reality she still only half-believed in, and the old, white farmhouse told her where they were. "You brought us here? You remembered." Although this place didn't belong to the Kent family anymore.

"This is home," he simply said.

The windswept scent of his skin made a host of memories – breathtaking memories – wash over her, and she murmured. "You smell good."

"Did I not before?" he asked, honestly puzzled, and Lois would have laughed if the whole situation wasn't beyond surreal.

Instead, she extended her hand in invitation, and when his hand clasped hers, the hope welling up in her was joined by joy. Together, they strolled toward the old house.

As they approached, Lois' smile faltered slightly. She wasn't a counselor or a shrink or anything of the kind. For once, she was completely out of her depth. The trick was to keep him from turning violent again, she decided, and this wasn't just home, it was a safe place. His instincts had guided him well, and she would trust that.

Still, when he started up the steps of the front porch, Lois let go of his hand and stayed on the grass, uncertain what his reaction would be. "It's probably locked."

When the knob didn't turn, he came back down the stairs with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I know how to break into my own home." He strode around the corner of the house, and Lois hurried to catch up. How could he remember that detail and not the fact that both Bruce and Diana had fought beside him against Doomsday?

Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse to see it was Perry. Huffing in frustration, she powered it down and stowed it again. The last thing they needed right now was interruptions. She found Clark on the back porch, sliding a window open. "This latch has been broken for longer than I've been on Earth," he said, almost like it was supposed to be a joke.

Once he'd climbed through the window, he turned and offered her his hand. She would have preferred to enter through the door, but he was exploring a world that had spun on without him, and she was content to let him lead for now. Perching on the windowsill, she swung her legs into the house. They were standing on the landing near the base of the stairs. The whole kitchen and dining room were visible, and so was part of the living room. It was...abandoned. Several empty cupboards stood open, a burned spot in the linoleum hinted at the missing fridge, and a broken bookshelf listed against a wall in the living room. Maybe this wasn't the best place for him right now.

She glanced up at Clark, and his jaw was clenched as he studied the scene. Fortunately, his expression was more of consternation than anger, though.

"I would have helped her," Lois said. "She didn't say a word about it until she flew in to Metropolis for a visit."

A wistful smile flickered on his lips, and then he started to climb the stairs.

The air in the closed-up house felt dead and stifling, the summer heat growing with each step climbed. The first room on the second story was the library. The built-in shelves were about a quarter-covered in yellowing paperbacks, and the threadbare couch she'd slept on at first was still there. Several withered plants haunted the large, east-facing window.

"This was your room," Clark said, the memories apparently surfacing for him.

"Yes. For the first few visits."

"Hm," was his only answer. Turning, he went back out into the hall. The room across the way had been used for crafts and storage – mostly memorabilia from Jonathan's life. It was empty, though the pattern of wear in the carpet showed where his mother's sewing machine table had stood and where the bankers boxes full of old taxes and good memories crushed the pile.

The next set of doors was the upstairs bathroom on the right (converted from a former bedroom) and Clark's room on the left. He pushed the bedroom door open, and the hardwood floor was completely swept clean. Only a small hole in the ceiling indicated where Clark's mobile of the solar system had hung, suspended over his bed.

 _Our bed,_ Lois mentally corrected herself, aching to be so close and yet so very far from Clark right now.

Everything here felt wrong – hollow – to her. What was it doing to Clark? Lois glanced up at him, but he had a distant look in his eyes, like he was puzzling over something or was using his super-hearing. He quickly moved on to the last door, the master bedroom.

It was much like the storage room, completely empty with only imprints in the carpet reminding her how this room had once been arranged. The shape of Martha's bed was outlined in dust bunnies.

Clark turned and headed back down the hall, head tilted like he was still listening for something. Once again, Lois found herself hurrying to catch up. Instead of going downstairs, though, he turned into the library and sat heavily on the couch, his head lolling back and his eyes closed.

Lois stood in the doorway, reeling with uncertainty. He looked the same on the outside, but she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Was her Clark even in there still? Or was he like this house – just a soulless shell of the being he once was?

The worst part was feeling utterly helpless, so she did the one thing she could to improve the situation. She crossed the room and opened the window. Even though it was late June, the temperature outside was cooler than inside, and the fresh air felt wonderful.

"You loved me," he said behind her.

Lois turned, but Clark still sat motionless on the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed. "Yes," she admitted. "I still do."

"I frighten you. And I hurt you, when we were flying."

There was no point in lying to him, and she stepped closer to rest her hand against his cheek, willing him to read in her touch the truth of her words. "I don't care. I still love you."

He finally lifted his head and met her gaze. "Do you know when I started loving you?"

She smiled in relief to hear him imply he loved her. "No. When?"

Instead of the playful grin she expected from him, though, he frowned. "I don't know. I was hoping I had told you before..." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back again.

This wasn't the first time Lois had seen Clark go all brooding, and she was not about to let him wallow. She sat beside him on the couch, and catching his chin, made him look her in the eyes. "You kissed me in the middle of a war zone. It was our first kiss. Do you remember that?"

He blinked, struggling to recall. "Everything was gray? Everything except your eyes."

"Yes. I think you must have loved me before that."

He nodded, accepting her answer, and looked away.

Just to set the record straight, she added, "And the thing about smelling good...Your pillow stopped smelling like you months ago. I thought I'd never..." Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. "...catch the scent of you again."

His hand moved as if to hold hers and then he firmly clasped his hands together.

He was still so remote, so closed to her, and it made her heart ache. Reaching out, she took his hand. "Any other questions I can answer for you?"

He stared intently at their intertwined fingers. "Does it gross you out to touch someone who was a corpse this morning?"

She started giggling, then realized he was serious. Tears overflowed as the reason for his hesitation came crashing down on her. She didn't dignify his question with an answer, not a verbal one anyway. Straddling his lap, she kissed him. It was supposed to be for his benefit – to make sure he knew in no uncertain terms that she welcomed his touch – but as she did, months of grief and longing and _need_ swept through her. It was gloriously reckless, and she felt alive for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Clark's gentle hands rested on her shoulders and eventually managed to pry her away a little. Sitting the way she was, she could intimately feel that she had his attention, but his expression was only one of concern. "Are you alright?"

She choked on a sob. _This_ was her Clark! This man who was so giving, so powerful, and so gentle all at once. Whether he ever sorted out his memories or not, her Clark was back and she kissed him again, only getting her words in edgewise. "I. Love. You. Clark. Kent."

...

Lois lightly dozed on the library's couch cushions, which were more or less bunched together on the floor. Clark had claimed the hardwood didn't bother him, and he was sprawled out on his back beside her. Lois' arm was draped across Clark's chest, and she luxuriated in the blissful feel of his warm, _living_ skin. Whatever else he might have forgotten, he was still her super lover.

"Lois, I need to..."

She sleepily smiled to herself when his voice trailed off and pulled her arm away from him. Even Superman needed to use a bathroom sometimes. "Go ahead." The welcome breeze coming through the open window made her cool enough to drift off, and she fell into her first good, deep sleep in months.

When she awoke, she wasn't sure if it was twenty minutes or two hours later. Clark hadn't returned, though. Frowning thoughtfully, she stood to retrieve her phone and, while it booted, mused on all the other things that hadn't returned: fear, grief, despair, tears, that twisting ache near her heart. She knew – mind, body, and soul – that her Clark was alive. She even suspected that he was as well mentally as he was physically, now that he'd had some time to catch his breath and piece some of his memories together.

 _The fate of the world will rest on your willingness to send him away._

Lois closed her eyes, the weight of Bruce's words pressing her back down to the couch cushions. She wanted to call him on the phone and scream that he asked too much. She wanted to swear at him. She wanted to curl up in a ball right here until Clark came back and kissed her into oblivious bliss again.

For months, she hadn't been strong. Just this once, though, she had to be. She _had_ to. Because if Bruce was right and the world would end without Superman joining the fight, it would be entirely her fault if Steppenwolf won.

Clark had sacrificed himself for this world. Diana was right that his sacrifice made him the best man alive. If she wanted to walk with him again – to walk among gods and legends – she would have to make a sacrifice, too. She hadn't carried on his legacy. She had failed him. And if he knew the things she knew, he would go help the man who once had every intention of killing him and very nearly did. That was the kind of person he was. He was fundamentally, unflinchingly _good_ , and if she wanted to be good enough for him, she would have to make the only penance she could. She had to send him away.

The phone in her hand started vibrating with texts. At least a couple dozen of them scrolled down through her notifications, and they were all variations on the same theme: Is it true? Is he alive?

Two names caught her eye, though, and they both deserved a response. The first was Perry, and she sent him a text that she and Superman were both alive and well, but she wouldn't be physically in the office for at least a couple of days. The second was Martha, and she deserved so much more than just a text. Lois called her, and when Martha picked up, she blurted out, "Is it true?"

"Yes," Lois said, the word sinking deep into her soul. "It's true. He's alive, and you'll never guess where we are."

"You're not at the farm, are you?"

Lois chuckled. "Yes. Wanna see?"

Martha squealed for joy on the other end of the line, but the sound was cut short as she hung up.

Lois told herself she wasn't stalling by calling Martha; Clark needed his mom as much as he needed her. Bruce would want her to put Clark's mind and heart back together as much as possible and as quickly as possible. He trusted her to accomplish that when no one else could, and that's why she was the big guns. What he didn't trust was her ability to let go. Allowing Clark to at least say hi to his mom would be an important part of Clark's recovery, but then...then she'd have to send him away. Maybe if she told herself that often enough, it would be easier when the time came.

Getting dressed, she decided she'd better go find the superhero both she and the rest of the world couldn't seem to live without. He wasn't anywhere upstairs, and she didn't see him in the kitchen or living room downstairs, either. The front door was ajar and when she stepped out onto the front porch – despite the fact that she _knew_ he was alive again – her heart leaped to her throat to see him standing in the waist-high corn. He was even wearing flannel, red and black flannel that clashed horribly with his navy-blue pants, and the observation made her smile as she descended the steps. It reminded her of their running gag about his countrified fashion sense: her pretended aversion to flannel and his (hopefully pretended) devotion to it. Yes, he was her Clark again alright. Where would he have found that shirt, though? Probably in the barn. Martha had removed anything personal from the house.

When she had assumed he was slipping away to use the restroom, he probably had gone exploring again, Lois realized. The exposure to the sunlight could only help him, but it was a little out of character for him to let her wake up alone like that.

He turned his head to give her a sidelong glance. "I'll take that as a yes."

"What?" Lois felt a flash of concern. Was he still confused, hearing someone in a neighboring house and thinking she was speaking?

Turning, he grinned and her heart ached for joy. "The ring."

She took it for granted after six months of wearing it, and the reminder made her fidget with it. Last night, that ring had been a symbol of all she'd lost; this morning, it was a promise of all that could be, assuming her intuitions about him were right.

"Are you okay?" Lois tentatively. "You brought us here, but you've hardly spent a minute inside the house."

"I know, but...just got out of a wooden box?" he said in answer, clearly trying to make it a joke and failing.

The reporter in Lois wanted to bombard him with questions, but she only allowed herself one. "What was it like, coming back?"

"Itchy," he said, again trying and failing to make light of it. Still, she smiled that he was himself enough to even make the attempt. "Honestly...weird in _so_ many ways."

 _The fate of the world will rest on your willingness to send him away._

Their time was almost gone, but she needed him to understand. She didn't want him to have even a chance to mistake her meaning. She was sending him away because of her failings and the need to make up for them, not for his.

He continued, "Mostly just..."

Swallowing hard, she said, "I wasn't strong..." _and he's the epitome of strength._ "I didn't, um..." _How to make him understand?_ "You would have been very disappointed in me. I wasn't...Lois Lane, dedicated reporter..."

He crossed the distance between them and rested his warm, comforting hands on her arms. "I'm the idiot who left. But I'm back now, and I'm going to make things right." He sealed that promise with a kiss, and Lois found herself melting into him again. She wasn't strong enough to resist.

Fortunately, he remembered that she needed to breathe and broke off their kiss, instead holding her tightly. A heartbeat later, he said, "You called mom."

"Of course."

"Thank you."

Still he held her, and her heart broke a little. Her last distraction was almost here. In mere moments she would have to send him away, despite the enticing scent and taste and feel of him filling her mind. True, he was much less likely to die this time around, but once burned, twice shy.

 _The fate of the world will rest on your willingness to send him away._

She wanted to be as good as Clark, and while it was an impossible aspiration, she had to do her best. Beating around the bush wasn't getting her anywhere – it was too hard and besides, it wasn't her style. Trying again, she said, "I was hoping it would take you longer to recover."

He leaned away a little in surprise. "Why?"

 _Clark slipping through her fingers, wobbling in flight, thrown off balance by the green-tipped spear..._

She couldn't hold him back then, and she couldn't now, no matter how desperately she wanted to. "Because now I have to send you away."

"Bruce," he said, understanding lighting his eyes.

Relief rushed through her, softening the lump in her throat. He knew she didn't _want_ him to leave – even though he had to. It made her almost lighthearted. "Yes, well, end of the world, that was the deal, I think. He was pretty intense about it."

A smile lit his face – wry but still the stuff of her dreams – and he said, "I guess I do owe him one."

They both did. "But no dying. And I get the exclusive."

He genuinely grinned, and she could finally see everything that had been missing in his eyes earlier. Clark was whole. "Yes, ma'am."

The gentle drawl promised her exclusive rights to much more than just his story, and it warmed her all the way to her toes. Martha had better hurry, or Clark might be delayed by another detour to the couch upstairs.

Then she could hear what Clark must have heard a mile or more away – the roar of the truck's ancient engine. Lois was both relieved and a little disappointed.

He turned, already looking elsewhere, already leaving her, but she clung to his promise: he was going to make things right. And the only way Lois' world could be right was if he were in it. With him, she _could_ be strong.

When Martha stopped her truck and climbed out of the cab, Lois got choked up again as the older woman's expression melted from disbelieving to amazed to overjoyed. While Martha had tried to be careful about the whole mother-in-law thing, Lois had known since before Clark died that the older woman thought of her as a daughter-in-law. Watching Martha now, Lois couldn't deny the affection she felt for the woman. While Clark and Martha joyfully babbled about him being alive, her thoughts turned to what kind of wedding she could handle. A simple affair before a judge in Metropolis would suit her just fine because, after all, it was just a formality. But seeing Martha now, remembering the motherly love she'd offered even when in the depths of her own bereavement and pain, Lois knew she couldn't deny her anything. The picture in Lois' mind shifted to a Smallville wedding with a white dress and the farmhouse full of guests who were joyful instead of in mourning. The mental image made her happier than she expected. Of course, the farmhouse wasn't Martha's anymore...

"Lois will have to explain the details – I don't know all of them yet myself," Clark was saying, making her focus again. "I'll come back as soon as I'm able."

"I'm staying in town now," Martha said, "In Henry Hasting's old place."

Clark immediately frowned in concern, but Martha planted an accusatory finger in the middle of his chest. "Don't you worry about me, son. If you need to be somewhere else right now, then go. I can take care of myself."

Turning to Lois, Clark pulled her and his mom into a group hug and said, "Promise to keep each other out of trouble until I get back?"

Lois half-smiled. "That's a tall order. I'll do my best, but you'd better hurry."

"That I will." Stepping back, he paused and tilted his head. "Where is my suit?"

Lois hesitated, unsure how he would take the news. "Wayne Manor, in Gotham City." At Clark's stunned expression, she added, "I tried having them put you in the stasis chamber on the scout ship – the one you used to heal me back in the Arctic. STAR Labs had to remove it from the ship and everything to get it up and running, but..." She shrugged. "It repaired the Suit and even the wounds in your body, but it couldn't bring you back to life. The Suit was too incriminating for either of us to hang on to, so when Bruce offered to keep it safe in the Bat Cave, we agreed."

"Guess that's my first stop." He stole one last kiss, and then he was gone in a shock of summer air.

Lois shielded her eyes as she looked upward, watching him fly off into danger – genuine, planet-threatening danger – and felt like someone had knocked the wind out of her.

Martha, however, was blithe when she turned to her. "Well, Lois. You've got some explaining to do."

Lois appraised the older woman, and a slow smile spread over her face. Martha was as rock-solid as her son. While there wasn't any blood-relation between her and Clark, Lois couldn't help but notice (and appreciate) the family resemblance. "Over coffee, " she agreed, but her stomach suddenly rumbled.

Martha smiled and added, "And lunch!"


	2. Sunset

Martha clocked out and untied her apron. Her shift at the diner had been...strange. In some ways it seemed to drag on forever. She'd much rather be at home, although Lois wasn't the best company right now. She was too obsessed with scanning the news stations and apps and what all else. High strung, that's what she was, ever since she'd finished her second cup of coffee, and it had started to grate on Martha. So she'd gone back to finish her shift and left the younger woman at home to do her reporter-thing.

But in other ways the day had flown by. Clark was alive – she'd seen him, held him, her baby boy! He would come home as soon as he could, and Lois had promised to call the second he did. So Martha had kept her cell phone in her pocket and the TV tuned to CNN hoping to hear some hint of where he and Mr. Wayne's team of meta-humans had gone. Even when old Moe had hinted strongly that he'd rather watch ESPN, she managed to sweet-talk him into a different conversation topic and kept one ear tuned for news of her son. None came – just endless chatter and speculation about Superman possibly being back, all based on some incident in Metropolis. The only text she received was from Pete Ross, asking if it was true that Clark was alive. She wasn't sure how to answer that one in just a text, so she didn't. The hours eventually ticked by, and now here she was, hurrying back to Lois so the two of them could drive each other crazy waiting for Clark to come home.

She drove up to the old two-bedroom house she called home now, and Lois opened the door. Clark's dog Dusty bolted over to her, happily wagging his tail. "Have you heard from him?" Lois asked by way of greeting.

"Nothing yet," Martha replied, scratching Dusty's ears before retrieving a paper sack from the middle seat and shutting the truck door. "You didn't tell me he busted up that park in Metropolis, though."

Lois' expression softened. "I didn't see that part until the TV stations started running the surveillance footage."

Martha patted her on the shoulder as she walked into the house. "Well, I'm sure he'll make that right, too, somehow. It's his nature."

"True," Lois said, smiling at the thought.

"Have you had dinner?" Martha asked.

Lois flushed slightly. "I haven't eaten since lunch. I've been too focused on everything else."

"How do you feel about burgers and fries?" Martha held the sack up for emphasis. "I took the liberty of getting take-out from the diner for us."

"Sounds great. I'd even eat my own cooking at this point," Lois joked, and Martha chuckled as she arranged their food on a couple of plates.

"It's good to hear you laugh," Lois said as she filled a couple of glasses with water and set them on the table.

"It's good to hear you crack a joke," Martha retorted. "You've been weighed down by grief too long."

"We both have," Lois pointed out. Shaking her head in disbelief, she added, "And we still would be, if Bruce Wayne hadn't been a foolhardy optimist – of all things."

Martha smiled wryly in agreement. While she knew little of the man, "foolhardy optimist" was the last phrase she'd use to describe him.

Over dinner, Martha asked if Lois' afternoon had been productive.

"Only in the last twenty minutes before you got home," Lois said. "A military source let me know that satellites are picking up some anomalies in Bizarnov, Russia. It's in western Siberia near where a nuclear plant went critical back in the 80's. There weren't any meta-human sightings, but..." Lois trailed off and shrugged.

Martha leaned closer, intrigued. She'd never seen Lois' legendary intuition up close and personal before. "What do your reporter instincts tell you?"

Lois smiled and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I think Clark overestimates my instincts a bit. But... my gut tells he's there, and I even think they've won. At least, my source said whatever was taking over the area stopped growing."

"I'll take it as good news, too, then."

They were just cleaning up when a knock at the door made them both jump, and Martha tripped over the barking Dusty as she hurried to answer it. Lois got there first and threw it open to reveal...Pete Ross. He smiled and waved kind of shyly, and Dusty happily sniffed his shoes. Lois' shoulders drooped.

Martha thought herself seven kinds of fool for not calling or texting him back before now. "Come on in," she said aloud. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, but I'm fine. I just...when I didn't hear back from you I'd hoped..."

Martha waited for him to finish until she realized he still wasn't sure her son was back. "I didn't want to put it in writing where just anybody could see it, but yes, Pete, Clark's alive."

The relief and joy in Pete's eyes made Martha impulsively hug him. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent," he murmured.

She patted him on the shoulder. "Well, the cat will get out of the bag sooner or later. You're one of his oldest friends – it's fitting you should know."

Lois' phone rang and, rolling her eyes, she fished it out of her pocket. "Probably Perry again," she muttered, but when she glanced at the screen, her eyes grew as wide as dinner-plates.

Martha crowded close enough to see "Clark" on the caller ID, but there must have been something wrong with Lois' phone because the phone number it displayed was just a bunch of 0's.

Lois answered it. "Hello?" Her whole face lit up, and all the tension drained from her shoulders, and Martha found herself letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "She's right here." Lois smiled at Martha and asked Clark, "Want me to put you on speaker phone?" Remembering they had a visitor, she added, "Oh, and Pete Ross is here, too." A heartbeat later, Lois fiddled with her phone, and Martha heard Clark's voice.

"Hey," he said almost shyly.

"Hi, son," she answered. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. We saved the world and managed to do it without anybody dying, just some inexplicably hurt toes," he said, some kind of sly humor in his voice. "At this point, it's just getting everybody home again."

"Well why'd you call, then?" Martha asked. "You could be home already."

"Bruce managed to total both his car and the airplane that flew them here. I'm subbing as propulsion, as soon as Victor repairs the hydraulics enough to seal the main hatch. In the meantime, he patched me through to you."

"How soon will you be home once you're airborne?" Lois asked.

"A couple of hours at the most. Even after taking out a brick wall, this plane's still really sturdy."

"Well, don't dawdle," Lois said, a smile playing on her lips. "You did promise me an exclusive, and I want to interview you while you're still fresh from the fight."

Martha tilted her head curiously. Was Lois flirting with Clark in some kind of code?

"I'm looking forward to it," Clark answered.

Martha hid a grin behind her hand. Yep, judging by his tone of voice, they were _definitely_ flirting. "I'll make sure you two have a nice, quiet, _private_ space for that interview, then," Martha couldn't help adding. "I'm sure Lois' editor will want to see the results."

Lois' smile froze, and before she could answer, they all heard a woman's voice in the background say, "Don't close the hatch yet! I found it."

"Hi, Diana!" Lois exclaimed, seeming eager for a change of topic.

"Hi Lois! Don't hang up on my account, Clark. I think they need to talk with you more than I need help with this. It's not heavy, just bulky."

"It's the Batmobile," Clark flatly pointed out. "It's got more armor than your average tank. And how do you and Lois even know each other?"

"We bonded over glass ceilings and nail polish," Diana answered, "and this is nowhere near as heavy as a tank."

"I think the hydraulics will work now," another, male voice said in the background.

"I'll see you both soon," Clark promised. "And Pete – thank you for checking in on my mom."

"Of course," he answered, "And, um, the Parkers and the Langs and everybody...they'll be glad to see you whenever you're in town next."

"It'll probably be a while before I'm walking the streets of Smallville," Clark slowly said, "but I might want to have dinner with some close friends in the near future."

Martha felt a pang of worry. Somehow it hadn't occurred to her yet that, on paper anyway, Clark was still dead – both here and in Metropolis. Even if Superman was back, Clark wasn't.

"Say goodbye, lover-boy," a different male voice said in the background. "I'm not swimming home in radioactive water."

Pete blushed slightly. "Sounds good. And no rush."

"Thanks," Clark said. "I'll see you all soon."

"Bye," Lois quietly said, and the line cut out.

"Radioactive?" Pete asked. "Where _are_ they?"

"Siberia." Lois smirked, pleased that her instincts had been right, and Martha just chuckled as she went back to washing the silverware.

"Well, I probably should get home, but thank you, Mrs. Kent. And you too, Miss Lane."

"If you were part of _this_ phone call, you can call me Lois," she answered, and even though Martha's back was turned, she could hear the smile in her voice.

"Well, either way, thanks. I'll see you around."

The door closed, and Lois joined Martha, grabbing a kitchen towel and drying the plates. Once the dishes were put away, Martha's thoughts turned to how soon Clark would be here, and it was a little bittersweet. They should be out at the farm – this house wasn't home for any of them. She'd just have to do her best to at least make it pleasant. One bedroom was currently used for storage and was full floor-to-ceiling with things she couldn't part with. The only other bedroom was her own. Lois would put up a fuss about not displacing Martha, but what woman would make her newly-resurrected son sleep on the floor? "Excuse me," she said, and headed back to the bedroom to straighten it up a bit.

"Sure," Lois absently answered, already engrossed in her news apps again.

Martha stashed the book on her nightstand in the drawer underneath, placed her slippers in the closet, and grabbed her own pajamas from her dresser. Once she'd hidden them in the house's sole bathroom, she went back and stripped the sheets from the bed. It wasn't until she was stuffing them into the washing machine that Lois caught on to what she was doing.

"Martha," she gently chided, leaning against the door frame of the back-porch-turned-laundry-room.

"Yes?" Martha cheerfully answered, dumping the laundry detergent in.

"I don't want to kick you out of your own bedroom."

Martha huffed in wry amusement. "You didn't do that – the bank did." When Lois opened her mouth to protest, Martha interrupted, "You two won't fit on the couch. I will. It's simple math. Don't argue with your mother-in-law."

Lois started laughing and shook her head. "Fine. Where do you keep the sheets, then? I'll at least make my own bed if you're going to force me to sleep in it."

Martha grinned, started the washing machine running, and then led the way.

Lois stuck to her guns on making her own bed, so Martha started rounding up blankets and a pillow for her own little nest on the couch.

Dusty started barking again, and there was a knock on the door. It had been a little over an hour since the phone call, and her arms were full, so Martha called out, "Come in, Pete!" He must have forgotten something.

"What if I'm not Pete?" Clark asked, stepping through the front door, and Martha dropped the linens to rush to the arms of her son.

"Wasn't expecting you so soon," she stuttered, holding him as tightly as she could and not even caring that he was laughing at her.

"We made good time," he simply said and kissed the top of her head.

She heard Lois' footsteps behind her and, taking a deep breath, let him go again. Clark kept one arm around Martha, though, as he pulled Lois close. Then his laughter bubbled over into her heart, and Martha was shaking and wiping away tears.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, sniffling. "Just a spring rain washing away the winter."

Clark grinned, and for a split second, she saw again an eight-year-old showing off his science fair prize in the face of the six-foot-plus musclebound man before her. Leaning into his side, she said, "I don't think you'll be able to get your arms around everyone who's happy to have you back, though."

"You might be surprised," he muttered, and Martha blinked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lois said, leaning away enough to look at his face. "Don't tell me one of your superpowers is an Inspector Gadget-style reach."

He snorted in halfhearted amusement before sobering. "Bruce might have needed me for this fight, but I do remember that the world doesn't want Superman. You don't have to worry. I'll stay out of everyone's way."

Bewildered, Martha glanced at Lois, who looked as confused as she felt. Then it hit her like a thunderbolt – he'd missed it all. The vigils, the tributes, the international week of mourning – he thought people still hated him. Slipping away from him, Martha went to the storage bedroom.

Behind her, Lois insisted, "The world needs Superman."

"So they _weren't_ burning me in effigy?"

Martha only had to shift two boxes to reach the one labeled "Scrapbooks."

"Seriously?" Lois said, sounding exasperated. "You don't remember when you fell in love with me but you remember _that_?"

Opening the box, Martha retrieved one covered in midnight blue and headed back out to the kitchen.

Clark was shrugging. "You can't blame me for which memories survived and which ones didn't."

Setting the scrapbook on the table, Martha said, "Do you remember Pete's sister, Melissa? She made this for me."

Clark tilted his head and opened the book. The first page had a clipping from the Daily Planet, lamenting Superman's death, and he was instantly serious. The second was the Smallville Ledger's front page from that same, horrible day. Page after page, he turned and saw how his hometowns – Smallville and Metropolis – as well as the whole of humanity mourned his loss.

"No one speaks ill of the dead," he eventually said. "I'll still have enemies."

"Yes," Lois admitted. "But not as many as you might think. We didn't realize how much we needed you until you were gone."

Judging by the way his expression softened, he heard what Martha did – Lois wasn't just talking about the world needing Superman. Everyone who knew Clark – from Lois to their coworkers to Martha and their friends in Smallville – had all been deeply moved by his death. It had taken her a few months to realize the shared grief wasn't just sympathy. Clark had truly touched that many lives.

Taking Lois' face in his hands, he said, "I love you. However many times I said that to you before, it wasn't enough."

The way those two were making eyes with each other reminded Martha she was second fiddle in Clark's life now. It was the way it was supposed to be, and she was beyond happy they had each other, but she still wished she could hold her little boy for just a little while longer.

All in good time.

For one thing, Clark wasn't in the Suit – he was again wearing the pants he'd been buried in, along with that old flannel shirt of Jonathan's that she'd kept in the garden shed. Did he even have any clothes left? A toothbrush? _Anything_ of his own?

She'd be a third wheel if she stuck around here. "I need to do a little shopping. You two hold the fort and I'll be back soon."

"Mom," Clark said, tearing his gaze away from Lois and giving her a worried glance.

Martha shook her head and forced herself to smile. "I mean it. When I woke up this morning, I didn't know I'd be reckoning with your appetite tonight. Besides, you owe Lois her exclusive." Throwing her arms around both of them, she said, "Love you," then grabbed her purse and all but ran out the door.

It was only a five-minute drive to the nearest big-box store, one of the advantages of city living, and Martha smiled wistfully to herself as she headed to the men's clothing section. It had been decades since she'd had to buy socks or underwear for her little boy. The memory returned to her suddenly of Clark's first toddling steps, and now he flew, crisscrossing the globe to save the entire human race. A wave of nostalgia swept through her, and she brushed away the tears. _Somebody's gonna think you're crazy, crying over crew socks_ , she chided herself and tossed a package in the cart. But her heart was all a-whirl with emotions – joy, disbelief, amazement, and now nostalgia. Somewhere in the mix, stubbornly hanging on still, was a lingering grief she didn't understand, and the tears kept coming. Hiding between the racks of pajama pants, she took a few minutes and had herself a good cry, grateful that Clark probably wouldn't hear it. Hopefully this would be the last of the "spring rains," at least for today.

When she had more or less pulled herself together, she grabbed a black terrycloth robe for Clark and, as an afterthought, decided to get a robe for Lois, too. She would be visiting more often again with Clark, and come to think of it, she hadn't exactly packed a bag for this trip either.

A sense of purpose filled Martha then that gave her strength – both her son and daughter-in-law needed her, and she would take care of them. After picking out a couple of jeans and t-shirts for Clark, Martha headed over to the women's section for Lois' bathrobe. She also tossed in a t-shirt and shorts for Lois to keep at the house. Lois could wash and fly home in the clothes she arrived in, but she'd need toiletries, too. Heading toward the pharmacy, Martha rounded up toothbrushes, deodorant, a brush and a comb... She stared at the section for a long moment, wondering what else she might have forgotten.

Shoes! Clark had been barefoot, she remembered, and she turned toward the footwear section. She just got him sandals for now, figuring these were basic things to get him through until he could re-establish his life again. How that might happen, she didn't have a clue, but she had no doubt that somehow, some way he would.

Once those details were taken care of, she headed over to the grocery section. She wasn't sure how long they would stay, so she wasn't sure how many meals she'd need to prepare. Giving up on meal planning, she just grabbed the snacks that had seen Clark through high school – popcorn, jerky, string cheese, a sack each of potatoes and apples, and a box of Captain Crunch, his favorite good-for-nothing breakfast cereal. For Lois, she got the good coffee and the fanciest dark chocolate she could find. The rest they'd figure out later.

The sky was ablaze with color as Martha pushed her shopping cart out into the parking lot. Sunset came so late this time of year, it was easy to forget it was already nine o'clock. All through her drive home, she admired the ever-shifting palate of sky and cloud.

The house was quiet when she let herself in, so she put the bags on the table and took Dusty into the back yard to let Lois and Clark sleep. They'd all had an eventful day, and the clouds were still rosy with sunset, so she sat on the back steps to soak up the last few minutes of light.

She should be exhausted, and her body was dog-tired, but her heart was just singing away for joy. Hope lived again. But more than that, her son lived. It was true that he had Lois and she was rightfully Clark's first priority, but she'd been so _alone_ after losing both Jonathan and Clark. Even the quiet of this house that had never been home felt different to her this evening. What had been a bereft echo was now a companionable silence. She wasn't alone.

Plastic grocery bags crackled inside the house, warning her that someone was awake, and a moment later, she heard footfalls behind her. Turning, she smiled up at Clark in jeans and a t-shirt. He sat down beside her on the porch stairs and put an arm around her, just like he had ever since he was a kindergartner, and Martha felt like her feet were on solid ground for the first time in six months. Sighing deeply in contentment, she rested her head on his shoulder. "Love you, son."

"Love you too, Mom."

She smiled and sighed again. She used to think she was lucky because she had Jonathan. When Clark entered their life, she realized that had been nothing by comparison. For Clark to have found Lois was beyond "lucky" and wandering into "blessed." She wasn't even sure how to begin to describe her good fortune at having Clark back.

"Mom, has Lois been sick?"

Martha raised her head and looked at him in confusion. "No, not that I know of. She was working at the Daily Planet back when I visited Metropolis. Why do you ask?"

"She's just..." Blushing, he looked down. "She's skinnier than I remember. More frail."

The stupid tears welled up in her eyes again, and she lowered her head to his shoulder so he couldn't see them. "You remember what I was like after..." She swallowed hard. "...the tornado. Lois held up better than I did, but..."

"But you'd been married for decades."

"Doesn't matter," Martha said. "She wore your ring. I gave it to her the day of your funeral, and she's worn it ever since. As far as she's concerned you're her husband. And she grieved you like any widow."

He fell silent, and Martha brushed the saltwater from her cheeks. Eventually she'd cry herself out, but apparently today she had more than enough to go around.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Clark asked.

She sniffled a little. "What's that?"

"I need your help with Lois. She's lost a lot of weight – too much – and she needs some good home-cooking to help her recover. Can we come visit you? Maybe every weekend, at least for a while."

Joy swelled through her like sun breaking through clouds, and she lifted her head. "Of course!" She'd assumed Clark and Lois would fly away to Metropolis and get busy establishing his human life again. She'd really enjoy having them around. A part of her wanted to ask how long they'd visit this time, but she wasn't sure she wanted the answer just yet. Let her pretend they were here for a week or two before they had to go back to Metropolis.

And speaking of... "Why _did_ you bust up that park in Metropolis?"

He sat up straighter in surprise. "You heard about that?"

Martha chuckled, "Son, everybody's heard about that. It's all anyone could talk about all day."

"I guess that would be front-page news." Holding her close again, he said, "Coming back left me...disoriented. My memories were pretty scrambled, especially at first." In a softer voice, he added, "Lois helped. And you. Coming back to the house gave me time to remember, and every detail held memories, sometimes entire years' worth."

"But you remember everything now?"

"I remember the important things – you, Lois, Dusty."

Martha couldn't help but chuckle.

"The oldest memories were the most settled-in, I think. They've come back the most quickly. Or maybe it was just the fact that I spent the first few hours on the farm."

"Your most recent ones are fuzzy?"

"No, the ones I have are pretty vivid. They're just...incomplete." He rubbed her back soothingly. "But I'm alive, so I'm not going to complain."

She was glad he remembered her, but maybe he'd do better to leave the more recent memories behind. It might actually do him some good to forget the losses in the Battle of Metropolis. And whatever had him calling her in the middle of the night to talk about Jonathan's travels back in the day – or rather, the lack of them – couldn't have been good either. Let him forget all that.

A streetlight flickered on and Martha smiled sadly. You couldn't really see the stars here, and Clark belonged to the stars. But for now, he belonged to the earth – to her and to Lois. She hugged him tightly, feeling again for herself that he was whole and strong and super as ever, minus a few memories. But that was okay. They could make new ones. Better ones.

Clark's stomach rumbled, and she chuckled despite herself. "Let's get you something to eat." Rising to her feet, she made it two steps before it hit her and she whirled to give her son a mock-glare, her hands planted on her hips. "You tricked me. If you'd offered to come every weekend for my sake, I would have said no. When you make it about taking care of Lois, though..."

He grinned as he climbed to his feet. "It took you a whole five minutes to see through me. You're getting slow."

She laughed and continued toward the kitchen. "I've had a rough day. Cut me some slack. And speaking of putting on a few pounds, you haven't eaten in six months!" She fleetingly wondered what the most nutritious meal would be for your son who just came back to life. Fish and honeycomb? She smirked and dismissed the idea. "Pancakes?"

"Sounds great, and if you don't have any bacon, I'll run to the store for some."

"Check the freezer," Martha said, and peace settled over her heart to have him rummaging around in the kitchen again. It was a too-small kitchen and in the wrong house, but none of that mattered. With Clark and Lois here, she was home.


	3. Epilogue: Good Night

Author's Note: We get this epilogue, gentle readers, because I saw Justice League in the theaters 7 times. (The last 2 times were mostly because my daughter begged me and I wanted to make sure I remembered correctly all the dialogue for this story.) Somewhere around showing #5 I noticed the same thing about timing that Lois does in this chapter because, as mentioned earlier, I'm a nut for this sort of thing. The cues I saw in showing #6 and #7 pretty well confirmed it. My dear husband is the inspiration behind the explanation.

* * *

Clark lounged in his new bathrobe across the foot of the bed, working on a bag of jerky (Sriracha-seasoned because his mother loved him), and answering Lois' interview questions.

She was sitting up against the headboard, her hair in a messy bun and absolutely enthralling to him when she was engrossed in a story like this. Up until now, her questions had been mostly fact-finding: who, what, when and where. Her thoughtful frown told him she was ready to move on to "why," and when the mind inside that pretty head of hers turned to analysis, even the mighty trembled.

How could he _not_ love that woman?

She glanced up, caught him looking at her, and adjusted her bathrobe so it covered her legs a little more thoroughly. Shaking her head at him in amusement, she said, "I think I've got a pretty clear picture now, but there's this five-hour or so gap." She tapped her pencil against the notebook his mom had loaned her. "You left the farm fairly early in the day, but you say you didn't actually meet up with the others until what would have been about six o'clock in the evening our time."

"True."

"So...?"

Clark could feel his face warming in embarrassment.

She looked at him expectantly, and when he didn't take the hint, she asked point-blank, "What happened?"

"Well, it's not like Bruce invited me over to the Bat Cave before I died," he muttered and took a bite of jerky to save himself from needing to elaborate.

Lois blinked in surprise. She opened her mouth to say something, her brow furrowed, and then she shut it. She inhaled to ask a question, tilted her head, and paused again. Finally she said, "The fate of the world was hanging in the balance."

"Yeah."

"You remembered it was just across the harbor from Metropolis, right?"

"Yes, I went straight to Gotham City."

"And that took you _five hours_?"

He ducked his head. "No, that only took me a few minutes."

"Well then...?"

"It's not like I had a cell phone, Lo. I couldn't call 411 or plug 'Wayne Manor' into a GPS app."

Her face was frozen into a mask of disbelief, and she stared at nothing. "I sent you away. I thought you were in mortal danger..." Finally she refocused on him. "And all the while you were wandering Gotham City _because you couldn't stop to ask for directions_?!"

"I was barefoot and in tattered pants," he pointed out with all the dignity he could muster. "If I'd gone up to a police officer and asked for directions to Wayne Manor he probably would have tried to arrest me."

She did her best to hide her mirth, even covering her mouth, and Clark couldn't help but smile in answer because, now that he wasn't frantically searching for Bruce and the others, it was kind of funny.

"So how'd you find them?"

"I searched the entire surface of Gotham City and its suburbs two times without luck. Eventually I realized that, since the Suit was in the 'Bat Cave,' I should probably be looking beneath the surface. That's when I finally found Alfred, but by then the others had already given up and gone on ahead without me."

Lois shook her head in disbelief. "And you barely made it to them in time. What whims of fate our world survives on."

It was true – mortifyingly so. The reporter in her could make even him tremble with fear. "Promise me that won't make it into the article?"

Lois threw her head back and laughed harder than Clark could ever remember. When she finally settled down enough to speak through her chortles, she said, "You might need to bribe me, Kent."

"I've been out of work for six months," he pointed out, smirking since he had a pretty good idea where she was headed with this.

"Are you good with your hands?" she asked, her eyes still dancing with laughter.

"Don't know." Waggling his eyebrows, he asked, "Want to help me remember?"

"Would I ever!" Still chortling, she leaned over to turn off the nightstand light.


End file.
